


From The Rafters

by trash_salad



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Barn Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Harmless lady loving, Nicole is in uniform, Outside Sex, Smut, Some of these tags take the fun out of reading smut, Vaginal Fingering, a bit of harmless soul searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:04:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_salad/pseuds/trash_salad
Summary: Nicole takes the night shift, and naturally it's a bit boring. This inevitably brings her to lurk a bit around the Homestead when she should be working, but she's not quite as stealthy as she thinks she is. Smut ensues. Only a tiny bit of plot in this.





	1. Stalking For Amateurs

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, and welcome to my first sharing of Wayhaught smut. This little work has been sitting on my harddrive since August, and after some tinkering and a bit of hesitance (and some insistence by the few I let read it), I've decided to post it out to the interweb for funsies. 
> 
> As typical for useless smut, this fic isn't betaed, but has been obsessively read and reread, so hopefully it isn't littered with typos. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as @trashsalad, and feel free to add me on there and send me anons telling me how great I am, or conversely, how awful I am. I love anons. 
> 
> Please comment, if you can. Kudos are appreciated, but they don't improve my work and they don't feed my muse, who is a hungry hippo and eats only constructive criticism and compliments.

     When Nicole and Waverly began to date, and obviously things in Purgatory began to settle down—demon possession and revenant killings included—Nicole thought the natural thing to do would be to take the night shift from Officer Davidson and try to whittle out something of a normal lifestyle. She thought working evenings might give her more of an edge, and since Wynonna and everyone she knew seemed to be more of the “nocturnal type”, perhaps having an eye on the happenings around Purgatory at night would be a useful advantage for all of them.

     More realistically it meant sitting around in the cruiser at strange hours of the evening with nothing but unreliable FM radio, police radio static underneath it, and the darkness of her own thoughts. Admittedly, it was beginning to drive her insane. Thus began her nightly “patrols” of the Earp homestead.

     It started innocently enough. She would drive her cruiser up to the front gate of the property and park it there; Nicole would turn the headlights off the Crown Victoria and sit in idle for awhile, hoping she didn’t wake up anyone on the property. Hours would pass, and she’d stare off blindly into the darkness, using the faint light of the moon to make out the various recognizable shapes of the old house. She told herself she was keeping an eye out for revenants, fully aware they couldn’t step any further than fifty yards of the rickety wooden fence outlining the property. It took one or two nights of this stupidity before she grabbed her heavy flashlight and stepped out of the cruiser to “patrol the grounds”.

     To Waverly and Wynonna’s credit, neither of them seemed to notice her late night visits. Wynonna asked her one day how the night shift was treating her without an ounce of sarcasm or a raised eyebrow—a sure fire way to indicate just how much the Earp heir knew—and Nicole held her breath before shrugging and telling her it was just about as boring as one would expect; she wasn’t exactly lying, if that made a speck of difference to her conscience. Waverly would bring her left overs from dinner down to the station, neatly packed in Tupperware with napkins adorned with heart shapes and flowers, and Nicole was definitely appreciative of the gesture, if not a bit guilty that she would often eat that meal before heading over to the property in the cruiser some odd number of hours later when patrol got boring.

     Eventually, Nicole’s guilt got to her, and she steadfast told herself this beginner level stalking was going to get her in trouble, so she eased off of her nighttime hobby and began to try and find real work to do. She’d found an abandoned car off a side road out of town and was waiting on a tower a few miles out when a text message chimed in on her phone at 4:35 am.

_~~~~~~~~Waves (4:35)_

_I miss you._

     Nicole’s eyebrows raised into her hairline when she read it, and trying not to read into things too deeply she replied as innocently as she could muster.

                       _I miss you too. Shouldn’t u be asleep?_

      Three unmistakable dots danced underneath her text before an answer quickly chimed on the phone. Before she had a chance to read it, Milstead Towing’s tires crunched on the gravel about twenty yards or so from where she stood, and she shoved the phone in her pocket to tend to the matter at hand.

     Thirty minutes later, the abandoned car on its way to an impound lot, and she was back in the cruiser. She was nearly about to drive back to the station when she remembered she had a text message to read. Cursing quietly to herself, she pulled the phone out of her pocket with haste.

                        _Waves (4:40)_

_You’re not where you usually are._

_Waves (5:10)_

_Come back to me, Nicole_

     She smirked to herself, and typed out a quick reply.

                        _I guess you caught me then. I was trying to be stealthy._

     She put the cruiser in drive and started her way back toward the homestead. With less than an hour or so left in her shift, she didn’t know quite what to expect, but her heart was thundering in her chest just the same. She was about a mile or two away from the front entrance when the phone chimed again. She pulled into the driveway just in front of the house, no longer bothering to be less than obvious and killed the lights and engine before checking her phone again.

                        _Waves (5:20)_

_Come to the barn._

     Nicole jumped out of the vehicle like it was on fire. She was about to reach in to grab her Stetson when she caught herself, and mouthed ‘fuck it’ before slamming the door shut and heading toward the barn entrance. She wound her way through the back to find Waverly sitting on a wooden beam that once separated horse stalls decades ago when it was still in use.

     “Hi.” Nicole greeted her, breathless. Waverly smiled, her long light brown hair illuminated by what was left of moonlight in the darkness of the early morning.

     “Hi, yourself.” Waverly replied. She tucked her head toward her body in a rare show of shyness she only seemed to exhibit around Nicole.

     The red head subconsciously mirrored the other woman’s actions, scratching the back of her neck with her right hand, before looking up meekly.

     “I’m sorry I’m a creep.” She offered, embarrassed. Waverly licked her lips, before swinging her leg off the wooden post and walking toward the taller woman.

    "I don’t think it’s creepy. I actually think it’s super sweet.”

             

     “Yeah? I doubt Wynonna would agree with you.” Nicole huffed. She noticed Waverly’s gradual approach, and her blood pressure rose in turn. A part of her still couldn’t believe that after all this time the youngest Earp could still garner this physical a reaction simply with close proximity.

      “You know, it’s nice to know you’re watching out for me at night.” Waverly responded sultrily as she gently held Nicole’s face within her hands. “Can I make a confession?” She continued.

     “Please.” Nicole croaked. She was already mush.

     “These last few days I’ve been…imagining what would happen if you came up to my room instead of staying in your patrol car.” Waverly said in a breathy rush, and even in the darkness of the barn Nicole could feel the intensity of her gaze. The cold of winter still hung on in late February, and steam from their breaths, both rapidly becoming more labored, created a sort of haze around their faces, which grew ever closer in the intensity of the moment.

     It was déjà vu, for them to be in this barn. There would be no Willa to interrupt, though neither of them thought to bring up the mood killing thought at that moment. The two of them should’ve been cold perhaps. It would’ve been more logical to maybe go to the patrol car, or better yet up to Waverly’s room upstairs. Efforts had been made to turn this abandoned barn into a livable space; there were several questionable space heaters adorning a bed tucked against a back wall of the open space. Nicole, her OCD not withstanding, could name off probably ten potential fire hazards within 500 square feet alone. However passion dictated over logic; Waverly reached up to bring her lips to Nicole’s and thus it was there that they broke the long wait since their first time in Nedley’s office nearly a month ago.

     Nicole could hardly believe it’d been that long, but with everything that happened so soon after, it was safe to say there wasn’t much time for sex, or even a full night’s sleep in the weeks that followed. Pushing the thought from her mind, she kissed her way down Waverly’s tan graceful neck, pulling off her signature blue puffy coat and quickly warming her hands on the flesh found underneath the thin grey henley shirt she wore underneath. There wasn’t a bra under that thin shirt, and between kisses Nicole smiled to herself at Waverly’s obvious planning.

     It occurred to Nicole how unfortunate it was that they were having sex (making love? Nicole didn’t dare to think more about it) while she was in uniform. It meant she’d have to quickly strip herself of a heavy leather belt, untuck a thick starched polyester blend uniform shirt, and get an ironed pair of Dockers half way down her hips before any fun could really start. To her credit, Waverly was more than patient, watching with mirth in her eyes as Nicole grunted in anger at the inconvenience of it all. Nicole always appreciated just how light and carefree Waverly managed to make everything—she never rushed, never showed easy impatience with Nicole—and it really made all the difference. She could wax poetic about how her Father always lacked patience when she was growing up, perhaps spend time musing about how she always seemed to look for it in those she dared to date, but now wasn’t the time nor place.

     “Finally!” Nicole grunted as she finished unbuttoning the last of her uniform shirt. Waverly smiled wide, as if she was biting back a hurrah of her own, but soon her eyes took in the expanse of a pale muscular stomach, illuminated by the dim light of a rising sun in the horizon, and immediately she had her hands on goose-pimpled flesh, in a somewhat foolish endeavor to warm Nicole’s skin with her own. When Nicole hastily pulled that henley over Waverly’s head and bent down to take a dusky pink nipple into her mouth, they backed against a bed covered in a collection of scratchy woven quilts and laid pressed together. Waverly sighed at the sensation of warm lips on her breast, and a warmer hand incessantly pressing against the inner seam of her sweat pants. She countered by quickly shoving a manicured hand down the front of Nicole’s boy shorts. She was awarded a sigh, and a subtle shudder in response.

      Both of them quickly got into a rhythm once Nicole made the quick movement from the outside of Waverly’s pants to between slick folds of flesh. Once she entered her, Waverly locked eyes and it intensified the low humming throb that had begun in Nicole’s core the minute they were alone. Their grunts were quiet and frantic, and their hurried kisses were often interrupted with gasps and moans of pleasure as each rode out the other’s hands. It was almost primal, their need for each other. It’s been different from the minute they met, and now that they’d crossed over into this form of intimacy the intensity hadn’t changed, but morphed into something perhaps too real to form into words, because the typical ones used didn’t seem to fit. There wasn’t time for emotion or admissions of love, though it crested on Nicole and Waverly’s lips at different points in time. That fear of rejection, mollified by desire, kept them from admitting what they both already knew.

     As it stood, Nicole was still unaware of Waverly’s confession to her sister, and with the chaos that followed, it gave the smaller woman a moment to swallow those words again; subconsciously, Waverly feared saying it aloud would result in a bigger disaster, one that would snatch Nicole away from her like Willa’s bullet nearly succeeded in doing. Waverly, her thoughts quickly darkening, came first. She willed her half lidded eyes to stay on Nicole’s, watching blown pupils engulf amber irises into a black so deep she could see herself reflected in their depths.

     Slick fingers rubbing her clit in frenzied circles brought out a hoarse cry into the morning, silenced by a hasty kiss. Nicole rapidly collapsed with a couple halted swallows of air a few moments behind. She panted into Waverly’s shoulder, and thought to herself how lucky she was that she’d chosen to date such a quick and studious learner.

     They lay in each others arms for a moment, neither wanting to leave or move, but they both knew it was inevitable. Their desire had brought them to this desperation, and neither were willing to let it be sullied by shame. Nicole broke the silence.

     “I should’ve been back at the station probably an hour ago.” She says with a sigh. “Dispatch probably thinks I’m dead.” Waverly craned her head to look into the other woman’s russet eyes.

     “Really?” She asked, abashed. Nicole merely laughed at her expression.

     “Shit, no! Darlene’s probably dead asleep in the office.” She ran her dry hand over Waverly’s cheek. “It’s okay, Waverly. I lo—I should get back now, though.” The near admission wasn’t missed by Waverly, but she didn’t let it show on her face. She merely gave Nicole one last hasty kiss before the other woman lifted herself off the bed to gather her clothes and try her best to make it look like she wasn’t just rolling around with her girlfriend on a bed likely older than the both of them. Nicole quickly remembered her manners, and with a strong hand helped Waverly up as well.

     The shorter of the two chuckled shyly as she pulled her sweat pants gracelessly back onto her hips. Nicole tisked to herself as she laid two fingers on a lilac bruise that was beginning to bloom on Waverly’s neck.

     “That’s gonna be hard to explain to Wynonna.” She chuckled with embarrassment.

     “It’s fine. She’s a big girl. She’s passed out on the couch right now, drunk off her ass like she is every night.” Waverly brushed off with a grunt. There’s darkness in that admission neither of them acknowledged. Nicole finished putting herself back together, her braid quite a bit worse for wear, and Waverly suggested gently that Nicole should try wearing her hat back into the station so its not as obvious.

     “I’ll just tell them I had to jump a barbed wire fence and ate it on the other side. They’ll give me shit, but it’s a lot better than getting written up for…”

     “Fucking your girlfriend on the clock?” Waverly suggested with a shy smile. Nicole swallowed, and adjusted her hands on her belt. The thought she wouldn’t allow before came cresting to the surface of her mind. If it wasn’t fucking…

     “Yeah.” She responded with a nervous chuckle. She pressed down on a rock under the sole of her boot for a second, back and forth, before she kicked it toward the corner of the barn and they both eventually began to shuffle back toward their respective places.

     “Nicole?” Waverly asked quietly. The still technically on duty officer stopped mid stride, and turned to face her.

     “Yeah?”

     “You gonna patrol again tomorrow night?”

     There’s a pause, and silent recognition of the other question laying thin beneath its surface.

     “Of course, Waverly.” She responded.

     They left the implication hanging from the rafters of the barn.

 

           


	2. Of Course I Love You, You Brought Me Icecream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly learns about the wonders of Bluebell, sex outdoors, and musing about constellations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where in the hell did this one come from?  
> That's right. I wrote this little charmer in an hour. See what comments will do? The hungry hippo got a taste of the good stuff and made me write this out. Phew! 
> 
> As always, if you comment, you will be rewarded. Once again, feel free to add me on tumblr @trashsalad. I made it all easy to remember, because its the same name without an underscore! Man, I'm so nice. 
> 
> This isn't betaed. Sorry. Typos are mine. These characters are not.

     “I could get used to this!”

     “What, being outside?”

     “No, dummy, this! Being outside, sharing ice cream, staring at nothingness, _with you.”_

     The pair sat on the tailgate of Nicole’s Ford F150 at two in the morning, overlooking Coward’s Creek and a near millennia of stars. The moon was crescent, but proudly raised in the night sky. Nicole commented on it looking like God’s clipped toe nail, which naturally struck Waverly as hilarious. She watched the joke light up Waverly’s face, and basked in the smaller girl’s cacophonous laughter, not having the heart to tell her it was from a movie she’d seen as a kid.

     Waverly got the idea the minute Nicole took the Bluebell icecream she’d been hoarding out of her freezer. Her sister had shipped it to her overnight mail from Texas, surrounded by about a thousand of those cold blocks made for shipping cold food, and it was nearly half melted when she chucked it into her already tiny freezer space in an effort to save it.

     “I’ve heard of this stuff!” Waverly cheered excitedly as Nicole unceremoniously dropped it (it slipped out of her hands) onto her kitchen counter, where it landed with a thud so loud her downstairs neighbor probably heard it.

     “Hayley said it’s a belated birthday present, but between you an’ me, I think she’s just trying to get me fat again.” Nicole stage whispered conspiratorially to her girlfriend, who replied with a snort.

     “You? Fat? Whatever.” Waverly laughed. Nicole bit her lip and smiled, slowly shaking her head.

     “You better not go sneakin’ in my middle school yearbook, then.”

     Waverly got the idea once she’d gotten a taste of home-churned Vanilla that had thawed just enough for her to steal a spoonful. She eagerly grabbed two spoons, handed Nicole the gallon sized jug of what was right now flavored ice, and shared her plans.

     Thus they sat, ice cream now soft and a bit melted, looking at tiny flames in the sky that’d long since ceased to exist before it’s light could reach their eyes.

     “You don’t see the stars this clear where I come from.” Nicole mused aloud. Waverly craned her neck to the side, curious.

     “Light pollution?” She asked. Nicole reached out to take Waverly’s hand, leaning onto her back in the truck bed for a better view.

     “Bingo.” Nicole sighed. Waverly wanted to ask if she missed the city, but she knew the answer already, and let it lie. She’d always yearned to leave the Ghost River Triangle, much like her sister had. Under different circumstances of course; in Waverly’s case, she wouldn’t be running away from something. She’d be approaching it. She blinked a few times and subconsciously her grip on Nicole’s hand tightened. If she ever left, it’d be long after the curse had been broken, and she’d have Nicole with her. She put those thoughts away before she let her imagination run wild.

     “Psst.” Nicole whispered. “You got most of that icecream on your hands, because they’re sticky.” Waverly smiled in response, and slapped that hand away quick.

     “I did not!” She giggled. Nicole sat up then, and rolled on top of Waverly playfully. They laughed carelessly as they struggled with each other for dominance, emboldened by the thought that no soul ever wandered to Coward’s Creek this late at night. As of that moment, besides their tiny circle of friends and random passersby, most in town knew very little of their relationship. The old ladies that Waverly often helped around town would ask about Champ, and playing the part, she’d smile politely and tell them the relationship had ended.

     Naturally, playing their own part as well, those women would pat her on the hand, and tell her something along the lines of ‘There’s plenty fish in the sea’. Well practiced in the role of the ‘good girl’, she’d give an innocent chuckle, a show woman’s smile, and those women would be back to their lives, with nary a thought to anything deeper.

     The ease to which Nicole and Waverly lived romance was both relieving and stifling, two conflicting emotions that fought for the same space in their lives.

     Waverly took Nicole’s index finger, a bit sticky like her own, and drew it to her lips. Nicole could do nothing but watch, mesmerized, as the younger girl took that finger into her mouth and sucked the flavoring off with a pouty smile.

     “You kill me so easily, Waverly Earp.” The ‘p’ on the end of the name pops on Nicole’s lips. Waverly doesn’t think about Bobo, she doesn’t think about her lineage. She thinks of her girlfriend’s mouth—rather—what she wants that mouth on.

     Her, specifically.

     They kiss like well practiced lovers, though admittedly they’ve yet to fully memorize each other’s bodies. Nicole’s hands, larger than Waverly’s with long and graceful fingers, trace the outlines of her shape. The woman above her, only a handful of years older yet perhaps a bit more practiced at this, pushes her short sleeve blouse up her rib cage, to free her taut abdomen for kisses. They are feather light and soft, a litany of them across the expanse of her stomach, and she feels adored as she knows every one of them come adorned with the other woman’s love.

     She wonders how she’s managed to live so long not knowing what this felt like. Akin to being worshiped like an idol. To be famous to one person alone. She doesn’t dwell on these thoughts too long, as those delicate fingers are dipping below the waistband of her jeans.

     “I need to tell you something, Waves. Later, okay?” Nicole whispers as the sound of zipper fights against the chirps of crickets and frogs.

     “Mmmm, okay.” Waverly mumbles as those same hands begin to gently tug her jeans around her ankles. Waverly takes one last look at the stars above her head as her ballet flats are pulled off, and her jeans and underwear are soon to follow. There’s Cygnus to her left, below that Pisces...

     Her legs are lifted up, to frame broad shoulders as she’s scooted just a bit toward the end of the tailgate.

     She spots Hercules as Nicole’s lips kiss delicately at her entrance. What would he say to this pairing taking place beneath him? Waverly grins at the thought. Wasn’t Hercules a Roman? He’d probably cheer them on, knowing their hobbies…

     It’s the overwhelming heat of Nicole’s tongue against her folds that ultimately stirs her from her thoughts. Her vision of the stars and their celestial bodies are gone to her now, as her eyes have rolled back in her head at the sensation of Nicole eagerly twirling the tip of her clit with her tongue.

     The idea she’d ever bothered with Champ is unfathomable at this moment. Additionally, the stars in the sky hardly compete with the ones she’s seeing behind her tightly squeezed eyelids.

     She’d normally be embarrassed at how quickly she climaxes this time. Thankfully she’s far too happy to even care, and she grabs at her girlfriend’s hands, the ones firmly planted on her hips, and moans loud enough to pause the crickets for just a fraction of a second before they’re back to playing their racket. Nicole’s tongue is back, but it’s far too much. Waverly struggles to get away from it.

     “Man,” Nicole whispers, her chin unabashedly evidence to what she’d just accomplished. “That’s gotta be some kinda record.”

     Waverly laughs a bit, with no orgasm to fuel her confidence, the embarrassment has finally made its arrival.

     “Hey! Be fair! This is incredibly romantic, you fed me _icecream,_ and you are _far_ too good at that.” She ticks her reasons off on her fingers, and Nicole watches her, amused. She raises her hands in defeat before one lowers to her face, to wipe her mouth and chin off with a grin.

     “You won’t find me complainin’, Waves. The sound of your orgasm has got to be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Nicole’s accent slips out without her notice, and Waverly tries to hide the smile that usually appears when it does.

     “Didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?” Waverly asks, motioning toward the shoes and jeans that lay crumpled on dewy grass. Nicole seems a bit abashed, and leans hurriedly to grab the items before they get even more damp.

     She hands them to Waverly with an apologetic look on her face, but Waverly takes them with a gentle expression, as if to suggest its already been forgiven.

     Nicole’s hand flies to the back of her neck, an almost imperceptible nervous tick.

     “I just wanted to say I love you, is all. I didn’t want to say it in the middle of…” Nicole gestures between them. Waverly cants her head to the side, pulling up her underwear in the truck bed.

     “I know, and that’s okay. I love you too, Nicole.” Waverly, still barelegged, makes eye contact with Nicole, and they share a smile between them; the silent communication only lovers share.

     Nicole waits patiently for Waverly to get on her jeans and shoes before helping her scoot off the tailgate and onto the damp earth beneath her truck tires.

     “Since the day I met you.” She says to herself, under her breath. She doesn’t realize that Waverly hears it. To her credit, she doesn’t make her repeat it. She holds the admission to her chest like a well guarded secret, because she feels the same. She loved her before she even knew it, soaked in beer, or eating imported icecream at Coward’s Creek.

     She’ll love her when the curse has been broken, she’ll love her in a city, or in a small town.  

     “You can see the Big Dipper tonight.” Nicole says when she opens the passenger door so Waverly can get inside.

     “Really?” Waverly says with a grin.

     “Don’t ask me about the other ones, though, cuz I’m from the city, an’ I don’t know ‘em.”

     “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit it, with the hardly over 20 minutes of canon for these two, a writer takes liberties. 
> 
> In my brain, and maybe only mine, that masterful accent Kat Barrell chose for Nicole is a Texan one. A Texan myself, the only way I'll know if someone has positively NAILED it is if it takes me a good minute to realize there's an accent in the first place. Like any Texan from a metropolitan city full of immigrants and outsiders, our twang tends to come out spontaneously, usually when we're drunk, tired, or not paying attention. Thus, there's a bit of twang sparsely thrown in like seasoning in my characterization of Nicole Haught. 
> 
> Kudos to the very Canadian actress for either purposefully or inadvertently delivering a spot on recreation of a southern accent. Ya sure fooled me!


	3. Gun Shots, Shots, And Sex, In That Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last piece of smut I churn out before I sleep. Don't be surprised, I'm a bit of a fanfiction machine when I feel like it. Well over 7k words in the expanse of a day? Why the hell not? 
> 
> This fic is... quite a bit dirtier. Don't be fooled by the fluff in the beginning, it gets intense before it ends. 
> 
> Once again, feel free to lob insult or compliment my way on tumblr @trashsalad. I love anons, because they're unexpected. Tell me I'm a moron or something. I'll be delighted. (Don't do that. My ego is as fragile as chinese porcelain.)

      “Alright. First thing, we have to figure out which of the two of your eyes is dominant.”

     “I’m right handed?”

     “Do you write with your eyes?”

     “No. I don’t write with my eyes.” Waverly rolled them though, to illustrate. Nicole smiled big at her own joke, lone dimple on display.

     “Anyway! Make a circle with your hand, and look through it at my finger.” Nicole held up the index finger on her right hand. Obediently, albeit a bit skeptical and confused, Waverly listened, and made a circle.

     “Looking? Focus on it. Okay, good. Now close your left eye, and keep your right open.”

     “Okay.”

     “Now switch eyes.”

     “Switching.” Waverly switched eyes, which made Nicole smirk just a bit, since the level of concentration on the smaller girl’s face was adorable, to be honest.

     “Okay. Which eye was open when you couldn’t see my finger anymore?”

     “Neither?” At this, Nicole nearly jumped in excitement.

     “Are you _serious?!_ That is so cool!” Waverly looked at Nicole like she’d just spoken fluent Russian.

     “Huh?”

     “Sorry, that means neither of your eyes are dominant, which is super rare, and uh… now that I think about it, is gonna make teaching you to shoot a bit more difficult. Damn.” And in just a second, all the enthusiasm Nicole had went out of her expression like air out of a balloon.

     “Did I do something wrong?” Waverly asked. Nicole chuckled a bit, and shook her head as she approached her. She hugged her, still laughing.

     “No, I’m just stupid and easily excited. Let’s go shoot some cans, Waves. It’ll be fun! I promise.” She sincerely hoped her girlfriend would find this as entertaining as she did. As she handed Waverly the pair of pink shooting earmuffs she had brought with them , she bit her lip in nervousness as she wondered just how well this unusual date idea would go.

     Admittedly, Waverly and Nicole had started everything out a bit unusually from the beginning. It started out decently enough with a bit of very harmless flirting, and from there went into overdrive at a nearly break neck speed. There wasn’t much time for your usual courtship before the two of them were having sex, and not long before that sex morphed into making love.

     While getting to know each others bodies was definitely fun, and additionally experiencing action packed revenant trauma together was definitely exhilarating and emotionally bonding, it was a bit weird that Waverly had only recently learned Nicole’s middle name. It’s Paige, for the record.

     “Explain to me again why we’re shooting tin cans instead of targets?” Waverly asked, as she took the police issue 9mm glock handed to her like she was just given a chicken carcass.

     “Because it’s less depressing? I’m trying to do something cute here, not actually teach you how to kill a man with a gun. I think it’s best we leave that responsibility to your sister.” Nicole said. With her hands on Waverly’s shoulders, she turned the smaller girl squarely toward her targets. A mere 50 yards away stood four Campbell’s soup cans and three glass beer bottles, the latter three donated by Wynonna, who sat a good distance off in a lawn chair and polished them off on the way to Coward’s Creek. A quick turn of Waverly’s head to see if her sister was watching and she had discovered Wynonna was drunk and asleep well before anyone had even pulled a trigger.

     Earlier, at the mere sight of Nicole approaching the homestead carrying notoriously pink shooting muffs, the Earp heir caught on surprisingly quick, and laughed riotously before barking something along the lines of ‘I’m not missing this shit!’ before blowing past the two of them with a six pack of Bud dangling from the fingers of her left hand and a bottle of Jameson Whiskey in her right. Where she had gotten either so quickly remains a mystery.

     “She’s asleep already?” Waverly said with a pout.

     “Give me the gun.” Nicole replied with a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows. Not entirely sure what she was about to witness, Waverly handed the handgun back, and pulled the muffs over her ears to be safe.

     Nicole turned quickly, her hands both square on the grip of the gun with the ease of experience, and with a squint of her left eye let out a single shot toward an empty glass bottle sitting upright a good foot or so from the lawn chair Wynonna was sprawled out on. It shattered beautifully into a million pieces.

     “FUCK!” Wynonna screamed. She nearly jumped out of her chair before she realized what had happened, and leveled a look at the loudly laughing pair that was nasty enough to murder the both of them had her eyes been capable of shooting lasers. She threw out a middle finger instead, which did absolutely nothing to quell the laughter. “Fuck you both! I swear!” She yelled at them.

     She picked up the sunglasses that had fallen off her head in the scuffle and put them over her eyes, mumbling to herself how easy it would be to bury a body out here and how she could leave town before anyone would notice.

     “You’re amazing!” Waverly squealed, peppering kisses on Nicole’s face. “Teach me how to shoot like that!” Waverly took her muffs off as she said this.

     “I’ll certainly try! Now pay attention!” She placed the gun in Waverly’s hands again, moving her grip and her arms much like a poseable doll until it was once again correct, and obediently Waverly squared her shoulders toward the first can on the left. The change in tone, and the inherent dominance and expertise Nicole seemed to show made Waverly’s pulse quicken just a bit, though she’d never admit it aloud. She’d always found confidence sexy, and Nicole was gifted with more than her fair share of it.

     “Okay, so since you’re not really dominant, you have a choice. You can either use one eye open, or both.” Nicole said from behind Waverly, her lips a bit close to her ear. It was innocent, done primarily so the smaller girl could hear her over the sound of a passing airplane above them, but it sent shivers down Waverly’s spine regardless, and she inwardly cursed at herself for the small but incessant pulse that was beginning to make itself known in a particularly intimate place.

     She’d recently thought to make a quick list of attributes in her head that made Nicole so downright irresistible to her, and while the red head’s southern accent, natural born confidence, bravery, and unnaturally good looks were definitely on the list, the low timbre of her voice, currently vibrating into the shell of Waverly’s right ear, sky rocketed to the top of the list in a two seconds flat.

     “Waverly?” Nicole questioned. Waverly swallowed—she asked her something. Oh!

     “Uh…I’ll use my right, I guess.” Waverly stuttered. Nicole, a bit clueless to her effect, continued on. She informed Waverly how to use the scope on the glock to align her vision with the target, and told her to pull the trigger firmly and quickly, with a firm grip and locked arms so her aim didn’t stray at the jarring motion of the gun letting off a round. Waverly half listened, a bit mesmerized by the low even tone of her girlfriend’s voice (and boy did that increasing throb _not help_ ), and when Nicole was done, she gently pushed a few stray strands of hair behind Waverly’s ears, positioned the muffs over them, and stepped back to let her make her shot.

     Unseen by the both of them, sat Wynonna, rolling her eyes.

     “Those fuckers have it so bad for each other it’s downright disgusting.” The woman laughed to no one, pulling a long swig off her bottle of whiskey.

     Waverly took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. She missed and hit the fence, lodging a bullet deep into the wood. It splintered, but overall looked unmarred.

     “Close!” Nicole shouted with a ‘thumbs up’ gesture from Waverly’s right side. “Try again!” She mouthed. Waverly nodded, disappointment apparent on her face.

     After getting that shot off, she thought of Ward Earp, and how he might have merely rolled his eyes at her missing the target. Had she been this age when she knew him last, he might have even laughed at her, if he didn’t scold her first. She grit her teeth at this, the sinewy tendons of her jaw flexing on both sides of her face. From a distance, Wynonna sat forward at this change which was apparent even in her stance. Nicole watched closely—she’d noticed it too.

     Waverly let off another shot at that same can, and blew it off its perch like a well trained expert, this time with both her eyes open. As if under some kind of hypnosis, she leveled her gaze on the next tin can, and shot that off just as easily. The two women who watched, turned to look at each other in amazement as Waverly easily turned and shot the next can and the one beside it, finishing off the three subsequent glass bottles with as much ease as either of them would ever muster.

     Waverly took the muffs off her ears, her fingers shaking a bit from adrenaline. She knew what she’d done, hell she’d watched herself do it from a sort of distance, but still didn’t quite process it.

     “Wow.” She muttered, amazed. Wynonna was much more verbal.

     “HOLY SHIT! Good job, baby girl!” She cheered, bottle still very much in her hand.

     “Amazing.” Nicole muttered. Waverly spun around then, a broad smile spread across her face.

     “You’re a great teacher.” She said shyly. Nicole shook her head emphatically, taking her into her arms after taking the pistol and quickly flipping on the safety. She kissed her on the top of her head and hugged her tightly.

     “That was all you, Waves. Trust me.”

     Waverly was a bit embarrassed about how proud she was to have leveled off those shots like that. In her mind she’d attributed it to adrenaline, perhaps mixed with her as of yet unresolved anger toward her father, a man she wasn’t even sure was in fact her father to begin with. She didn’t dare share these thoughts aloud, not to Wynonna, who didn’t hesitate to brag to Doc how her sister was practically a gun slinger—he winked at her and tipped his hat when he heard, which in turn made her face flush with embarrassment immediately—and definitely not to Nicole, who had initially started this date off with the idea of impressing Waverly, only to be happily impressed herself.

     It was when the two of them were finally alone—a bit tipsy after the subsequent celebrations that followed their little outing—and back safely in Nicole’s apartment, when Nicole really expressed her amazement.

    “It wasn’t really all that impressive, right?” Waverly sighed. Nicole was seated on her queen sized bed, fighting to get her boots off and tucked away neatly in a corner. Hearing the doubt in her girlfriend’s voice, she leaned forward to grab Waverly by the waist, and hugged the surprised woman closer to her.

    “Are you kiddin’ me?” She drawled tiredly into Waverly’s firm stomach. “That was singlehandedly the Sexiest. Thing. I’ve. Ever. Seen.” She punctuated these words with kisses to that same abdomen, and a very ticklish Waverly giggled and squirmed at this display of affection.

     “You are so drunk!” Waverly laughed.

     “Maybe. Drunk on you…” Nicole admitted, a bit dreamily. Waverly, the more sober of the two, gently pushed Nicole back onto the bed.

     “Pull your clothes off.” She instructed, walking toward Nicole’s closet to pull out one of the oversized sleep shirts she knew Nicole was partial to sleeping in.

     “Sex?” Nicole asked, tiredly.

     “Sleep.” Waverly answered, tossing the shirt at the red head. It landed squarely on Nicole’s face.

     “Hey…” She groaned sleepily. “No fair…”

     Nicole awoke first the next morning, tangled up in Waverly’s arms. She didn’t want to move, as she was actually the little spoon in this scenario, which is endlessly endearing when you’re a bit beyond 5’9. She did however, have to urgently pee. She also had a bit of a headache going on, along with a bit of cotton mouth. With a quiet groan, she remembered Wynonna’s gleeful declaration that Nicole was in her words “a little bitch” if she couldn’t drink more than six shots of tequila without passing out. She managed, obviously.

     A quick glance down informed her she was dressed in an oversized shirt she hadn’t worn since she was in the academy a number of years ago, and that implied she hasn’t picked it out. Since Waverly was also wearing a sleep shirt, that meant they either miraculously had the sense to put on clothes after drunken sex, or Waverly, much less drunk than she, had made her change.

     “You’re a good egg, Waverly.” Nicole whispered, kissing the tan forearm that was draped unceremoniously over her shoulder.

     “Eggs?” Waverly said, half asleep beside her. Nicole laughed despite her hang over.

     “If you want ‘em, sure. I gotta pee, Waves. Can you let me free?” The sprightly girl answered with a grunt and shifted, lifting her leg off of Nicole’s right hip, and loosening her grip on her over sized ‘little’ spoon.

     “Thanks.”

     “Welcome. Remember, eggs.” The words came a bit muffled with the brunette’s face deeply buried in a pillow, but Nicole managed to make it out.

     After an hour or so, Nicole managed to wake a very grumpy 24 year old with the promising smell of eggs and bacon, enough to stir anyone who’d been drinking the night before, no matter how tired they were.

     “Mornin’ sunshine.” Nicole greeted her girlfriend, who rubbed her eye and plunked down in her seat without a reply. Nicole had known Waverly was super grumpy on weekends for awhile now, which was much of her impetus for taking on the night shift in the first place. Her body though, strange as ever, was obedient to adjust to whatever schedule she desired. So waking up early one day and late the next was entirely dependent on when she fell asleep and whether she got at least 8 hours of rest. It was a bit perplexing to her coworkers, but worked out stupendously for her when she needed overtime hours.

     It made it easy for her to get the most out of her days off from work. A necessity when one mostly works at night.  

     “You’re too happy, Nicole. Stop.” Waverly whined. Nicole plopped a plate full of eggs and bacon in front of her, and the smaller girl allowed a tiny smile to grace her face before grabbing a fork and shoving food into her mouth.

     “Regular super model we have here, folks.”

     “Shut up.” Waverly offers between bites of scrambled egg.

     “A delightful grasp of the English language, as well.” That comment was rewarded with a cold stare, coming from behind the cup of orange juice she was drinking.

     “God, I adore you in the morning.” Nicole sighed, before she ran her frying pan under the tap and placed it onto the dishwasher rack.

     She sat across from Waverly then, and happily watched her eat the meal she’d made her without a word. Waverly pointedly ignored her, and when she was done, washed her plate and put it away much like she’d seen Nicole do a few minutes before.

     She returned to her seat, and looked over to Nicole whose eyes had been shamelessly following every movement she made in the small expanse of her kitchen.

     “What?!” She exclaimed, fighting the grin that threatened to make its way onto her face.

     “Can’t a girl stare at her girlfriend like the sun shines out of her ass every once in awhile?” Nicole says with a sly grin, leaning back in her chair as she crosses her arms defiantly.

     “No! You’re creepy!” She countered, but her smile gave her away immediately.

     They sat there in Nicole’s modest kitchen, both wearing nothing but oversized shirts (Waverly’s comically so) and underwear, staring at each other like it was some kind of Mexican stand off. Waverly is the first to look away, but like a magnetic draw, her greenish brown eyes make their way back to Nicole’s light brown, accentuated by a single raised eyebrow.

     Those brown eyes make their way down, ever so steadily. Neither one of them are wearing a bra, it’s cold in Nicole’s kitchen, and she’s a lesbian and has been for awhile. She cringes when she meets the look that awaits her.

     “Hi.” She offers weakly. Waverly looks smug.

     “You seem to be distracted.”

     “Yep.”

     What happened was so quick, and entirely unexpected, that Nicole nearly fell out of her seat. Waverly, challenge shining in her eyes, leaned forward for a second, and in one swift motion, pulled her shirt off, her bra safely in a corner in Nicole’s bedroom, breasts on full display. Nicole’s eyes darted down immediately, and opened wide, and stayed there, a bit longer than perhaps she intended.

     “My God.” She couldn’t really form words much better than those two at the moment.

     It wasn’t the novelty that really made her gawk—naturally she’d seen these breasts before. It was the unexpectedness of them, so early in the morning. Those gorgeous nipples pebbled and hard thanks to the stubborn cold of the remaining months of winter still clinging to the air. Nicole briefly thanked God she hadn’t thought to crank up the heater just yet.

     The air between them changed instantaneously. Nicole’s face went from playful to intense, and the daring look that once played on Waverly’s face changed a bit as well, and became wanton. Her gambit move had turned on her, because that familiar ache had instantly bloomed the minute she saw Nicole shift in her seat.

     “Come here.” Came the older girl’s low voiced command. She rose out of her seat despite her ego, and held out her hands, which Nicole immediately took into her own. Nicole eased her down to straddle her left thigh. Her hands went to Waverly’s bare back, and leaned her back by twenty degrees or so before she dipped her head down, eyes firmly locked onto the smaller girl’s as she took a nipple into her mouth.

     The warmth of Nicole’s mouth made Waverly hiss, her left hand reaching up to tangle in auburn hair that’d been trimmed shorter recently. As perfectly white teeth bit down on her nipple, she clenched that hair in her grasp, running her nails over Nicole’s scalp, which she knew the other girl enjoyed outside of sex.

     Nicole tightened her grip on Waverly’s back in reaction. She switched breasts, and smiled to herself when she realized Waverly was beginning to grind against her bare and muscular thigh.

     “You like this?” Nicole leaned back to say. Waverly, quite a bit worked up and disappointed at the lack of stimulation grabbed her by the chin, told her to shut up and kissed her passionately.

     It wasn’t quite as romantic or heartfelt as the other handful of times they’d had sex in the past, but this was a welcome change of pace, rougher and intense. They both squirmed in arousal, eager to see where this would lead them.

     Nicole broke the kiss to unceremoniously wrap Waverly’s legs around her waist and carry her—with the help of one eye open—to her bedroom. She threw her on her unmade bed like a sack of potatoes. Waverly fully enjoyed this display of strength, hooded eyes and pupils blown to show her appreciation in a more subtle manner. Nicole crawled on top of her immediately, yanked the ruined pair of underwear off of her with a show stopping smile, and didn’t pause for a snarky reply before she was two knuckles deep inside Waverly’s core.

     “Yes...fuck…” Waverly could articulate no further. She was incredibly slick, and Nicole couldn’t help but grin into the other girl’s neck at the debauched noises her fingers made against pliant slick flesh. She found a way to shut the other girl up, because beyond pants and breathy cries for more, the girl underneath her seemed to be tongue tied.

     “Did Champ ever make you feel this good?” Nicole whispered huskily into the shell of Waverly’s ear. Light brown hair, wild, long, and cascading all over her pillows moves like a current as she shakes her head in response.

   “No…!” Comes a strangled cry. Nicole rewards this by angling her fingers upward, pressing into familiar flesh that always seems to surprise Waverly, no matter the amount of times she does this. Nicole leans back, brushing the hair out of the other girl’s face in time to catch two hazel green eyes roll back into her skull.  

     “Do you love me?” Nicole chokes out, a bit hesitant. Those eyes come back to her suddenly, and they lock on with clarity that makes its way through the haze of lust and immediately steals the air from her lungs.

     “Yes.” Waverly whispers. Nicole’s thumb begins to circle her clit with a strong and purposeful stroke, and those eyes are gone again. Waverly’s back begins to arch, as if electrified by a current, and with a few spasms and a painful shudder, she comes in Nicole’s arms with a loud moan. Nicole doesn’t withdraw her fingers or gaze, choosing to instead ride out the last vestiges of her girlfriend’s orgasm. She feels the pulse slow on the tips of her fingers, and Waverly merely turns her head to the side, wiping at the corner of her eye.

     “Hey…” Nicole says simply. “Look at me?” Waverly turns and swallows. Nicole reaches up with both hands, cupping her cheeks as she reaches down to kiss her. There’s a moment where Waverly’s eyes seem to widen just a bit before she leans her head to the side and captures the fingers of Nicole’s right hand into her mouth, her gaze firmly set on Nicole’s.

     “You are evil, Waverly Earp.” She gasps. She laughs a bit despite the intensity between them mere moments before.

     “Yep, and I’m all yours.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thoughts? I'm tempted to leave this fic at three chapters and no more. As always, however, there's a window left for more. Maybe even a more of a plot, maybe, I guess. Sensitive_pigeon, writer of the fantastic (and entirely spooky scary) Wayhaught fic "Get Lost", has been telling me to "add a monster" every time I update her on the progress of this sex show I'm calling a fanfic. She's much better at writing monsters though, so be sure to read it, and leave her a comment. Think of it as an early warm up to Halloween.


	4. Never Too High For Commitment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. This has been such a wild ride. The response has been so friendly, I'm just blushing (I don't do that but bear with me). I thought about ending it at three chapters, but like, why not make it an even four? With a sequel? 
> 
> Contents of sequel will be made clear once you've finished this. 
> 
> If any of you guys knew the stuff I've written before, by that I mean, before-before, you'd think it was insane that I'm writing a damned domestic fluff series for Wayhaught. This couple, though? *clenches fist* The way they just like... love each other? It's nice. It's pure. I might be a bit delusional here. 
> 
> As always, and no I will not stop mentioning this, visit me on the blue hell site known as tumblr @trashsalad. You think I'm funny here? I'm a literal hootenanny over there, y'all. So witty. It's amazing. I will blow your socks off with my wit.

     Dolls was back. It was an incredible relief, because despite their rather wordless relationship, Nicole had to admit his presence and calmness under fire was a welcome presence in her life, all things considered.

     He came back with an army of government agents on his tail, shoe less and glowy eyed and lizard-y, but after all of that settled down, after Wynonna had killed the blonde agent that had it out from him since the beginning and sent her to hell where she belonged, things went back to the sort of molasses like stillness it had been before.

     To spare extreme detail, she was possessed much like Waverly had been. It wasn’t by your typical demon, however. What took residence in the leading agent’s soul was a bit of hubris tainted with intense hatred of the unexplainable. She’d killed and dissected many just like Dolls. Half human half animal hybrids. Unknowingly Nicole and everyone on earth had been sharing this world with werewolves and creatures unexplainable by science. Overall, they’d kept to themselves—some, like Dolls, were heroic and saved lives—regardless, the woman (what was her name again) hated his kind because of misplaced grief. Thus, Wynonna, conflict written on her face, took her great grandfather’s gun, sighed in relief when Peacemaker glowed in response, and took her shot.

     Nicole had seen brains before, a side effect from her line of work. She found this sight to be a relief to her this time, however, right before the hell fire gobbled her up like combo meal. That bitch was a menace. She didn’t like bullies, in all their shades of evil. To discriminate—even between human and inhuman—despite the kindness Dolls had clearly shown himself to be capable of, was inconceivable in Nicole’s eyes.

     Waverly had shown herself to be quite handy with a handgun, much thanks to the training Nicole had given her. She’d obviously shown herself to be proficient with a sawn off shot gun, but she was put in a tight spot with a group of military soldiers, and left with nothing but a handgun that had been carelessly discarded in a shuffle, Nicole watched in awe, laying on the ground after a very sobering kick in the ribs, as her girlfriend shot two oncoming soldiers in the chest in the blink of an eye.

     Nicole’s admiration for Waverly Earp rapidly went from love to practically hero worship in the expanse of a couple days. They sat together in the back seat of Doll’s BBD issue vehicle, as they made the slow journey back from top secret military headquarters back to the relative safety of the Ghost River Triangle.

     “You were very brave back there.” Nicole whispered to Waverly. They were both covered in their fair share of bruises, cuts, and likely broken bones, so the other girl gently leaned her shoulder onto Nicole’s and reached for her hand.

     Wynonna was asleep in the front seat, out like a light, snoring loud enough that Dolls reached over and increased the volume of NPR, which droned over the speakers like a white wash of noise about current events. Obviously, the goings on they’d just witnessed went unreported.

     Doc had the stuffing beat out of him, and he lay on the bench seat toward the back of the SUV, equally unconscious. Waverly turned her head to check on him every once in awhile, watching as the deep breaths of his slumber ever so slightly twitched the long hairs of his mustache. Nicole and her met eyes, and smiled at each other under the soft orange lights of passing street lamps. The red head winced a bit when she did this—she had a particularly painful split lip that cracked when she smiled—Waverly reached up with her free hand and tenderly touched it.

     “Think chapstick will help?” Nicole said, her voice husky from strain.

     “Probably not.”

     “Figures. Well, I’m not getting stitches.”

     “Nobody said you needed stitches, Nicole.” Waverly huffed. The banter, however light, served to distract them from the trauma of near death.

     “Good. Cuz I don’t like ‘em.”

     After a brief visit to the doctor, and a lie or two about falling off a horse, and the officer was sent home with a doctor’s note for an extended stay from work, a prescription for hydrocodone, and strict instruction to ‘stay the hell off horses’. She was sore and a bit grumpy.

     Waverly, spared with a smattering of bruises and a cut on her forehead that was rapidly healing, was more than eager to play nurse maid.

     When Nicole woke from medicated slumber, she was greeted with hot soup, and her girlfriend staring at her from the edge of the bed.

     “Have you been watching me sleep?” She groused, sitting up gingerly. Waverly looked a bit embarrassed.

     “Me? No… I have soup.” It was homemade chicken noodle. She took it from the other girl’s hands carefully, and gently smiled at her, ignoring the sharp pain that earned her as her full lips stretched against the cut.

    “Sure.” She chuckled. She grabbed the spoon and dipped into the broth, which was her favorite part. Luckily there was more broth in this than noodle, and she looked up with a question drawn on her expression.

     “There’s extra broth. I’ve seen you eat wonton soup before.” Waverly chirped, obviously pleased she could provide even the simplest of comforts to her girlfriend.

     “And I thought I was the stalker in this relationship…” Nicole mumbled playfully before she took a hearty spoonful into her mouth.

     “It’s mutual by now, you meanie. Eat your soup.” Nicole nodded, before reaching over to the prescription bottle on the nightstand and downing a pill with a gulp from her water bottle before she really got started on her meal.

     Waverly watched Nicole happily eat an entire bowlful, trying to keep the expression on her face schooled and vaguely aloof. The reality was, Nicole’s inherent talent for getting herself injured scared her every single time. The idea of losing her from one of these very harrowing adventures sometimes kept her up at night, and when she awoke, not at Nicole’s bedside, but alone, in the homestead, she often had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.

     After all, it was silly to cry. Nicole wasn’t dead, she was right here, happily spooning into her mouth what was basically hot and flavored water. Regardless, she’d had an ever growing need planted into the pit of her stomach in the past few months they’d spent alone on Nicole’s days off. Her girlfriend’s seemingly never ending reserve of romance, even in what many would consider mundane life experiences, made her heart grow exponentially in her chest. Seeing those amber eyes light up when she arrived sometimes had the ability to knock every bit of air out of her lungs. She yearned to be around Nicole all the time, but the tiny and angry voice that resided in the back of her head would remind her how very new this relationship was. The last thing she wanted to do was scare her away.

    “I don’t like that look on your face.” Nicole said, as she laid her spoon inside the bowl and set it on the bedside table.

     “What look?” Waverly responded, concerned. Nicole reached over silently, and with a thumb, rubbed between the other girl’s eyebrows.

     “Sometimes, it’s like you go away into that head of yours, and I have to fish you out. What are you thinking about? It makes you frown.”

     Try as hard as she could to hide, Nicole would seek. As if she’s bare before her, she lets out a bit of a shudder.

     “I’m thinking about you, how I’m scared you’re gonna get really really hurt and I won’t be able to feed you broth anymore and make you better.” She angrily reaches up to rub at the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes.

     “I’m not going to die, Waves.” Nicole admonishes, her voice even and slow.

     “I want that in writing.”

     “Uh…I have something that might be better, but you can’t over react, okay? It… I don’t want you to think it’s like… too much.”

     The hairs on Waverly’s arms stood up, then. This piqued her interest. Made her throat a bit dry.

     With a very painful groan, Nicole moved to pull the bed sheets off her legs, and a bit shakily, stood on two feet. Waverly got up instantly, concern evident on her face.

     “The doctor said you should rest!”

     “No,” Nicole said with a grunt as she carefully leaned over to move a few books aside on the shelf against her back wall. “The doctor said no more riding horses. This is a very tiny room, Waverly. You can’t possibly ride a horse in here.” She teased, reaching to the back of the bookcase with a sweeping motion of her hand.

     “Stop teasing, Nicole.” Waverly warned, a few hot tears beginning to escape from her eyes.

     The black velvet box looked worse for wear, and Nicole looked at it, her body blocking the other girl’s view. When she opened it, her mother’s wedding ring, a modest cut princess diamond set in white gold—an 80’s staple—gleamed back at her. Her heart was pounding and she felt light headed, both from adrenaline and the narcotic pain medicine still in her blood stream. Waverly had sat at the bed, stock still, having a mini heart attack. Nicole took a deep breath, which was a super _duper_ terrible thing to do when you’ve got two broken ribs on your right side.

     “Fuck!” Nicole hissed. Waverly, thinking the worst, came running up to her side, hand firmly on her lower back. The taller girl had to fight her immediate instinct to clutch the box against herself like Gollum.

     “Oh.” Came Waverly’s voice. Small and girlish. A slight tremble as she let the word slowly die from her lips.

     “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this going. I thought, maybe I’d get on my knee somewhere romantic, like a beach, or Disney World, or like… literally anywhere but—“

     “High on pain meds in your Yummy Sushi pajamas?” Waverly helpfully suggested. Nicole let out a laugh, a bit like a wheeze.

     “Yeah. Exactly.” She opened the box again, and showed it to Waverly. She bit her split lip unconsciously, far to nervous to even notice the pain this time.

     “Wow.” Waverly breathed. She looked like a six year old on Christmas Morning. Nicole stared at wide green eyes, before she realized she was supposed to do something. She braced herself for the pain, and began to slowly—

    “What the hell are you doing!” Waverly shouted, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Are you stupid! You broke like all your ribs! Stop!”

     “Thank God.” Nicole nearly cried in relief. “I love you, Waverly. Marry me. You don’t have to do it like… now… maybe after my ribs are healed and—“

    Waverly smacked Nicole on the side of her head, tenderly and mostly for effect.

     “You are so dumb. Of course I’ll marry you. I love you too. Now get back into bed, or I’m going to murder you!”

    Nicole smiled the biggest smile her face would allow. A big, dumb, glorious smile. Her lip began to bleed then, with perfect timing. Waverly rolled her eyes at this nearly six foot tall goof ball standing in front of her. She took the ring out of it’s delicate lining and placed it on her finger. It fit her alarmingly well. Which was suspicious. She turned around to catch Nicole carefully getting back into bed.

     “Did you have this sized?” Waverly had seen pictures of June Haught. The woman was at least as tall as Nicole, and had fingers that were far larger than Waverly’s.

     “Oh that thing? I had the whole band replaced like a month ago. That white gold setting is new. Mom had pretty big hands, and I knew with the size of your fingers the ring would fit you like a bracelet. I snuck off with some of your costume jewelry when you didn’t notice and took it to Lewis Jewelers. That guy Ted at the front desk was so nice. Kinda looked a me a bit funny, but didn’t say anything when the ring was a size six. God knows I’m a size nine. I have these huge man hands and… Waves? Why are you crying?”

     Nicole, who’d been rambling for well past a few minutes now, hadn’t noticed the beauty pageant quality tear fest going on at the foot of her bed until now. She was very tired, the hydrocodone she’d taken immediately before she ate her soup was definitely beginning to take effect, and now her future wife was leaking from her face.

     “You planned this! You planned a friggin’ _month ago_!” Waverly sobbed. Nicole made a face at this exclamation. She didn’t exactly sound mad about it.

     “What’s the big deal, dude? I planned that shit when I saw you covered in beer! I was like, this girl is the literal _definition_ of beer flavored nipples!” Nicole was now higher than a teenaged stoner, and she was laughing in bed. Waverly had a choice to either continue crying, or join in with her. Luckily for the both of them, Nicole’s drunken laughter was infectious.

     “You are so stupid, I love you, but seriously, you are dumb.” Waverly laughed, leaning over to Nicole, whose laugher was only barely beginning to die down. A moment later, and the hydrocodone’s effects began to taper out. Waverly knew she should leave Nicole to sleep, but she wanted to stay around her a bit longer, dreading going home just as much as she was delighted at the fact she’d have a ring to bring with her.

     Nicole, bed sheets nearly pulled up to her neck, had taken Waverly’s left hand into her own, and turned it right and left, watching the diamond gleam in the light of her bedside lamp. Waverly looked over at the clock—it read 9:45—and then looked adoringly back at the love of her life.

     “That ring fits you so fucking great. I’m gonna kiss Tim.” Nicole said softly, her voice a bit slurred with tiredness. Waverly coughed a bit, and rubbed her eyes, a bit itchy now from tears.

     “You mean Ted? Don’t kiss Ted.” She chuckled.

     “’Kay. I’ll just kiss you.” Nicole said with a lazy smile.

     “Nicole, if you wake up in a few hours, and you try and snatch this beautiful ring off my finger, I will shoot you.” Waverly said, realizing with a bit of irrational fear that Nicole might not have been in the right state of mind when she proposed.

     “Are you fuggin’ kidding me? You’re like, the hottest chick on the fuggin’ planet. Hell no. Plus,” Nicole raised a finger. “No take backs.”

     “Right. No take backs.” Waverly giggled. She watched Nicole struggle against sleep, her heart skipping a beat when those beautiful eye lashes began to bat once, twice, and then again before they laid closed against sculpted bare cheeks. Waverly leaned over to delicately trace the mysterious scars that lined the left side of Nicole’s face. She ran her finger over the beauty mark under her left eye. She was deeply deeply in love with this woman, and she was going to marry her. It struck her at that moment how incredibly odd it was that she was doing this. A year ago she was unhappily dating Champ Hardy. Now she was head over heels for a cop. A really gorgeous cop, with full pink lips.

     “Get it together, Waverly.” She whispered to herself. With one last glance, she got up and turned out the bedside lamp. She stalled a bit at the door, before she left it open a crack. She had to get home to tell Wynonna. She wanted to squeal at the thought.

     She didn’t see Nicole smile in the the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who might be a tad bit worried that Nicole wasn't in her right mind when she made this decision, worry not. Nicole, like Waverly, *puts on best fake American accent* is a plannerrrrrrrrrr. 
> 
> Also, I work in medicine. The typical onset for hydrocodone aka Norco aka Tylenol 3 aka Codeine, aka Vicodin, is 20-30 minutes via mouth. So that leaves us a good window of time where Nicole could have conceivably seen Waverly's gorgeous face, hyped herself up, slurped her soup water and been like 'yup, it's go time'. 
> 
> Hope you liked this. This chapter was super fun to write, despite it's shortness.


End file.
